


Not Scared Anymore

by eV_Dee



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Albert DaSilva is a Good Friend, Asexual Character, Canon Era, Coming Out, Elmer Needs a Hug, Friendship, Gen, Help, How Do I Tag, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eV_Dee/pseuds/eV_Dee
Summary: "I'd had this secret bubbling up inside of me for quite some time now, and my fizzing nerves were shaking my soul to the point where I might have exploded if I didn't tell anyone...Metaphorically, though; a human explosion of anxiety is not a good mental image."AKA: Elmer feels broken and worried, and Albert is the best friend he could ask for.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	Not Scared Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, there! 
> 
> Thanks for clicking on this; it's the first thing I've ever uploaded here, so I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Did lockdown send me into a spiral of watching musicals on Disney+? Yes.  
> Did I watch Newsies and immediately become far too invested in these characters? Yes.  
> Did I become that invested because the relationships between the Newsies reminded me of my friends who I hadn't seen in ages? Yes.  
> Did I start relating to Elmer as a fellow sunshine-y boy who likes Maths and Physics (according to the trading cards), and who gets the mick taken out of him (lovingly) by his friends, and thus start projecting onto him? Definitely.  
> Was I going to upload this for Ace Awareness Week, but ultimately was far too scared of messing this up to do so? Hell yeah!
> 
> Am I rambling both in an attempt to be funny and make you laugh when the world's kinda going to Hell, and to prolong this so you don't have to read what I've written, especially since all the Newsies things I've read here are, like, abjectly amazing? Quite possibly!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it (and forgive me for not having a clue about 1800s/1900s views on asexuality)!

My name’s Elmer; I’m fifteen, and I’m a Manhattan Newsie who’d just taken part in a strike with my brothers (by choice, not by blood) that had saved all of our skins and shown the World that we mean business. Lead by the fearless Jack Kelly, we were inevitable, courageous, unbeatable.

…So why am I scared?

In all honesty, I'm not even sure why I was so scared to begin with; Albert is, like I said, my brother. (Maybe it was all the horror stories of abandonment, abuse, and worse that we'd read about in the papes concerning this sort of thing, or it was just my brain going into overdrive again.)

We’d just finished selling the evening edition, at the time, and were zooming rapidly down the crowded Manhattan streets as a kaleidoscope of colours blurred before our eyes. The wind growled down our ears, wolfish, and bit at our chubby, round, rosy cheeks. Time had been flying past like the buildings and people that streaked through our vision (we'd been out for the past hour and a half, give or take, but it'd felt like only five minutes since we'd left home). It was getting late; we'd have to trundle back to the lodging house soon. So, naturally, we eventually had to stop for a final rest. 

Grinding ourselves to a halt, we stopped on the vacated corner of the pavement we were running down, and ducked into an alley to check that everything was still intact: Satchels, shoes, jackets...our legs, for that matter (we're not that strong, okay, and the Delancey brothers had been giving up even more crap than usual since the strike). There, resting in the stretching silence of the street on that cool October’s evening, I contemplated the situation. It was calm, quiet, perfect for my revelation (of sorts).

I'd had this secret bubbling up inside of me for quite some time now, and my fizzing nerves were shaking my soul to the point where I might have exploded if I didn't tell anyone...  
Metaphorically, though; a human explosion of anxiety is not a good mental image.

As always, though, my mind was at war with itself over the matter, with one side rattling, rampant with the screeching, vulture-like cacophony of fears in my skull, and the other attempting to freeze said fears with the icicles of reality that I know I knew. And I did know. I knew that Albert, my first friend, my best friend and brother, was vastly intelligent, witty, and accepting beyond his years, despite his abundance of sarcasm and capacity for insulting people (Read: Jack and Racer), and he would not change his perception of me; hell, he even covered for those in the lodging house who could be put to death for who they loved (Read, once again: Jack and Racer), and was more than willing to soak anyone who tried to hurt them.

I’d say “read” once more, but I’m sensing a pattern here. 

(But seriously, with all the love in my heart, Racetrack Higgins NEEDS to get better at hiding his little escapades to Brooklyn every week; not all of us have the same power as Spot Conlon to keep him safe between boroughs, after all. And Jack? Let’s just say he isn’t as slick as he thinks he is…and that Race, Albert, Specs, and I really didn’t need to see that…poor Davey)

So, again, why was I so scared?

This inner turmoil must have been apparent on my face, however, since moments after we'd stopped to catch our breath and take “inventory” (is that how you use that word? I know Davey’s said it a couple of times…), I was disrupted from my (possibly disastrous) downwards-spiral of thoughts by a nudge. His elbow, my ribs. Not the most comfortable, I'll admit, but it got me back in the present. Once I looked to him, his wickedly clever hazel eyes sparkling, even with the lacklustre glow of the sun, he innocently asked me a question.

“Hey, what's up, El? You look spooked!”

Spooked I was, to the point where I couldn't possibly keep anything from anyone, let alone one of my closest friends. So the secret slipped past my lips, came tumbling out as my thoughts struggled to prepare themselves for all of the possible outcomes.

Silence. Nothing, for 1...2...3...

Was he angry? Would he be disappointed, like my family were when they discovered that their youngest child would not be bringing them grandchildren? 

(To be fair, that’s complete crap anyway, since I’m the youngest of eight, y’know! Statistically, they’re all gonna have kids, so why should it matter if I don’t? Still makes me a freak, though…)

He still hadn’t said anything. Had I done something wro-

“Cool!” he beamed, grinning in that simultaneously wholesomely angelic and slightly (ever so slightly) demonic way that he does.

Cool. It was cool. I was cool! Of course it was! 

Albert DaSilva was many things, but a bad friend was not one of them; he’d dealt with Jack’s fawning over pretty girls and handsome boys alike, Race’s infatuation with a certain King of Brooklyn, and the constant stream of pining from so many of the other boys (I may or may not have been subject to many, many, many of Albert’s rants about how unfathomably dense some of our lot are), so there was never any (rational) doubt as to whether he would accept me or not.

“Were ya really that worked up about that?” he laughed at my admittedly far-too-relieved expression. “I’m honest! With you not bein’ fussed about chasin’ skirts or suits, that’s one less paIN IN MY ASS!”

“Al, stop shoutin’! Someone’s gonna hear!”

Even if no-one heard him shout, the roaring laughter that followed, both at my unneeded panic and his equally unneeded reaction would be enough to turn anyone’s head; it ain’t every day you see two newsies, one as tall and he is pale with shocking ginger hair, the other decidedly less tall, less pale, and with a much less offensive hair colour, half-dead from joy in a New York alleyway.

Finally at some sort of semblance to peace, both emotionally and mentally...and physically, since we hadn't broken our legs pegging it down the sidewalk, I returned my own trade-mark soft smile, dimples and all, and hopped incredibly gracefully back out into the street, with him quickly following suit, just as gracefully.

...We both almost got soaked by a carriage, okay? In our defence, they don’t normally come this way!

Anyway, we had to get back to Kloppman’s soon. Just as we were about to run off, leaving my crippling concern over the conversation behind on the corner, he chuckled in the most knowing way, before whispering, loud enough for me to hear:  
"Well, at least now Jojo and Crutchie’ll ‘ave someone new to rant to!"

"Ye… wait, WHAT?!?" 

The little son of a… (well, not exactly little, but you get the idea)

He was laughing as he sped off; I immediately chased after him, continuing to trail after him in a fit of giggles. We got back to the lodgings late, and broke Kloppman’s rules about curfew (guess who’s fault curfew is), but Jack didn't mind; after all, me being myself, he probably thought I'd just forgotten the time, and that Albert didn’t have the heart to correct me. He’d find out soon enough though; one positive experience with my best friend was more than enough to convince me that I could tell all of the others about my lack of interest in anyone, and that they’d be accepting, or more than that in Crutchie and Jojo’s case.

But that didn't matter, not right now, because everything was, and is still, fine. Of course it was. 

Albert is my brother, and thanks to him...  
...I'm not scared anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that wasn't too grating to read! I know I often write quite pretentiously sometimes (blame my English teacher for that one!), so hopefully that wasn't too off-putting!
> 
> If you'd like to leave a kudos or comment, that would make my day! Y'all seem really nice here in the Newsies fandom, and you write really cool stories, too, so thank you for keeping me (somewhat) sane throughout these last few months!
> 
> Stay safe out there, and see you soon!
> 
> eV_Dee


End file.
